


There's No Good or Bad in Dreams

by eiqhties



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Ariadne's POV, M/M, POV Outsider, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiqhties/pseuds/eiqhties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was easy to miss. At first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Good or Bad in Dreams

It was easy to miss, at first. 

Ariadne has always prided herself on being perceptive. She understands people quicker than most.

(Though not quicker than all. Not quicker than Eames. Who tries to teach her to forge, once – but it doesn’t work. She thinks of every detail that she knows about the person she’s trying to forge (and she knows a lot.) It doesn’t work, though. Her face won’t change, and instead of insulting her when she looks at him,  frustrated, Eames grins at her with bright eyes and says, “ _Darling_ , you know yourself better than the sun knows how to shine.”)

Ariadne knows things. She’s sure of things. In fact, she’s almost certain that the only reason she never realised on the Fischer job, is because she was preoccupied with the idea of Cobb bringing a fatal projection of his dead wife into a three level deep dream and trapping them all in limbo forever. 

So, yes, it was easy to miss at first.

Though she’s not quite sure how.

 

(There is no good or bad in dreams.)

 

* * *

 

 

Cobb, for all his talk about how he’s going to leave dreaming forever – never really does. He takes jobs, with them, the team.

(“The dream team.” Eames had said, once, when they were all slightly tipsy. Ariadne had found it far funnier than she would have sober, and even Cobb’s eyes had crinkled merrily at the corners. Yusuf had been asleep, face down on a table. And Arthur. Arthur had simply looked at Eames for a while, before finally saying, “I think you’ve had enough now, Eames.”)

So Cobb takes jobs with them, and when she first realises, first _understands_ the precarious game of cat and mouse she’s sitting on the edge of, she goes to him – because for all Cobb is a tragic hero, he’s a hero nonetheless.

“Why don’t Arthur and Eames like working together?” She asks him, and he looks up at her sharply, eyes watching hers with the sad seriousness he never quite seemed to get rid of, even after Inception, even after returning to his children. Even after. 

“Why do you think?” He asks her. And Ariadne hates this sort of thing. Hates being treated like a child. Hates being treated like she can’t know anything before she’s already done it.

“They’re in love.” She says, and Cobb smiles. It’s one of his rare smiles. The sort of smile that he saves for after a job, or for seeing his children. It’s one of those smiles that lights up his eyes as well as his mouth, and Ariadne watches it, wonders how long Eames and Arthur have been in love, wonders how long that Cobb’s watched them been in love.

Sometimes, Ariadne feels young.

“Maybe.” Cobb says, and he’s still smiling, “Maybe, they don’t know they’re in love.” And Ariadne’s about to open her mouth, about to say,

“ _I’ve seen the way they look at each other. You can’t miss it. Even_ they _can’t miss it._ ”

But Cobb cuts her off before she can say anything else, and says, “Or maybe, they don’t _want_ to be in love.” And the smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, now – and he’s looking out the window of their workshop with the faraway look that he gets on his face only when he’s thinking about Mal. 

Sometimes, Ariadne knows things, and sometimes, she doesn’t understand.

But she understands, now, understands to the degree where she’s almost ashamed she didn’t understand quicker, because it’s obvious that Eames and Arthur are in love, but it’s also obvious that they’re terrified, tiny little things. And it’s not often that Ariadne feels like the big one in a team of all men, but she feels like it now. Big and untainted and still so _expectant_ of good things.

“Did Eames know Mal, too?” She asks, and Cobb looks at her, again, eyes drawn away from the window and fixed on her.

“Eames introduced me to Mal and Arthur.” He says, and leaves it at that.

 

(There is no good or bad in dreams.)

 

* * *

  

It’s not difficult to track how everyone knew each other from before, Ariadne thinks.

Arthur and Eames met years ago, before either of them had met Cobb. They met when they were younger than she is, now. She knows this, because Eames keeps a photo in his wallet of an Arthur that looks too young for words. She knows this, because Arthur’s laughing in the photo, properly laughing, the sort of laughing she’s never seen Arthur do. And Eames, Eames is standing beside him, _looking_ at him.

(It’s the same look that he has for Arthur, now, and it breaks Ariadne’s heart, because it’s a sad look, it’s a full look. It’s love.)

Eames met Cobb through some simple, military based job. After all, Cobb was an architect, back in the day, asked to design the dreams that the military were fighting in. (And Eames was military, as much as he hates to admit it. He hides it, most of the time. He hides it with a slouched back, and messy tables, and laughs that actually reach his eyes - but once she gave him instant coffee and he tensed, just slightly, before pushing the mug away and saying, “Terribly sorry, Ariadne, but I can’t drink this. Ever.”) 

(It’s strange the things that stick with people.)

Eames was the first to meet Mal, as well. She hired him, for a job. Though Ariadne’s never managed to find out what the job entailed. Eames holds his secrets close to his heart, and his love for Mal is one of those secrets.

Eames had brought them all together, at one point, to make a team. And they were a team, for a while, she knows this; she’s been inside all of their subconscious’. (Or at least, the subconscious’ of those still alive.) They were a good team, too, she bets. Sharp and quick and.

And then Cobb and Mal fall in love. 

Of course, he wouldn’t have been Cobb, back then, not really. He would have been Dom. Dominic. Soft, simple, architect Dom, who still laughed at skyscrapers and found glory in dreams. Victory in dreams.

Arthur wouldn’t have seen, of course, not like Eames. Because Arthur encompasses everything in his work, the bigger picture, the world around. It’s like Arthur is the creator and Eames is the dreamer. The subconscious to fill the world around. Eames is the people, and the people are Eames.

Arthur is a Monet. From far away he sees it all, but close up he misses almost everything.

Eames is a Van Gogh. From far away you almost miss it all, but close up you see everything, every brush stroke and careful image.

So Eames would have seen. Would have noticed. Eames would have watched Dom push it too far, would have noticed the change to last name. (From Dominic to Dom Cobb, to just Cobb.)  And he would have watched Mal start to tear herself apart from the inside out with thoughts of worlds crumbling.

(And Eames, he would have seen the happiness crumble from Cobb’s eyes, would have seen the fear and the worry and he would have imagined it for Arthur, too. Would have imagined it for Arthur if he stayed. So Eames left.)

(Eames left like a coward and Arthur never understood.)

 

(But there is no good or bad in dreams.)

 

* * *

 

Yusuf is a good friend to Eames.

He notices, too, Ariadne realises. Watches them all with the wariness of an outsider. A new person to mess up the dynamics. Her and Yusuf form a connection, in that way.

But Yusuf is a good friend to Eames.

He’s not the sort of person to push Eames when he won’t tell him something. He’s not the sort of person to ask questions. This is good for Eames, in that respect – because there aren’t many people in the business that leave people when their questions aren’t answered.

(She certainly won’t leave until she tears the whole thing apart.)

Arthur doesn’t like Yusuf. No, wait. That’s not right, Arthur doesn’t _trust_ Yusuf. Not after they were nearly trapped in their minds by Yusuf and Cobb combined. Ariadne doesn’t think that Arthur trusts anyone, though. Yet Yusuf is a quiet presence, a soft one. He’s sharp remarks but soft edges for Eames. And their similarities draw them together in ways that Ariadne can’t replicate.

(Ariadne tried to replicate people, once – but Eames had told her that she knew herself too well, and Arthur told her that changing for other people was the worst thing you could do. Ariadne stopped, after that.)

“Arthur doesn’t trust you.” She tells Yusuf, one night, and Yusuf takes a gulp of the drink in front of him, and then smiles at her.

“Arthur didn’t even trust Cobb.” Yusuf said, “To be honest. I’d be more terrified if Arthur _did_ trust me.” He pauses, fingers trailing patterns in the wood of the table they’re sitting at. “I’d be more terrified if I was Eames.”

“What do you mean?” Ariadne had asked. “Arthur trusts me.” She says, and Yusuf had looked at her. (Yusuf never gives the impression that he’s seen as much as he has. Not until he gives you a look that tells you more than a thousand words. Not until he gives you a look that tells you he’s been in the business far longer than he’d let on.)

“Arthur trusts you to do your job well.” He says, “That’s completely different from trusting _you_.”

And she realises.

How ironic that Arthur would put his only trust into a man that makes his living by pretending to be other people.

How ironic that Arthur would put his only trust into a liar.

 

(There is no good or bad in dreams.)

 

* * *

 

It’s been two years since the Fischer job. Since Inception.

She calls everyone up.

“Crumpet!” Eames says down the phone to her. She blinks.

“Crumpet?”

“I was trying it out.” Eames tells her, “Was it not working for you, pet? I think it works – you know. Still, if you don’t like it then I can’t go around calling you it.”

“I don’t like it.” She replies, and Eames sighs.

“Yes, I had a feeling you were going to say that. Still. Do what do I owe the pleasure?” She’s about to tell him, when she hears muffling in the background – and Eames says, “Shh.” Says, “I’m busy, you twat.” And she knows without asking who’s with him, so she says,

“I was thinking – we should all meet up for drinks. It’s been two years since I met you, after all.” and Eames laughs down the phone and says,

“God, you make me feel old, darling – but yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. The usual place, I take it?”

And it means something warm, something cool, to know that they have a _usual place_ that they’re the “Dream Team” and they have a usual place, and that they all still talk, they all still smile, even after all the things that they’ve seen. Even after Mal jumped off a building and everything on the Fischer job went wrong.

And Arthur and Eames are in love, and if they don’t want to be in love (and Mal’s there, haunting them, still, saying, “Do you know what it’s like to be a lover?”) Even if they don’t want to be in love, they _are_ in love. And it means something warm, something cool. So Ariadne says,

“You better tell Arthur all that.”

And Eames, says, “Arthur? Who? That stick in the mud? I don’t know where he is.” But the smile in his voice is obvious (because if Eames doesn’t smile with his mouth, he always smiles with his _voice._ ) And so she just tells him to piss off and hangs up, laughing.

 

(There is no good or bad in dreams.) 

 

* * *

 

 

And it’s two years and one week after the Fischer job, and they’re all sitting around their table – and Cobb is smiling with his eyes, as well as his mouth, and Yusuf’s sitting beside her, quiet presence calming. And Arthur. And Eames.

They’re sitting beside each other, shoulders brushing, hands touching, and Arthur looks at Eames, and Eames looks at Arthur. And it’s whole. It’s love.

 

(There’s no good or bad in dreams.)

 

(But maybe there’s good in real life.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There was a petition about how I should stop comparing Arthur and Eames to artwork. I ignored it. (Eames is Van Gogh five-ever) 
> 
> There was also a petition about how I should use proper paragraph breaks. I ignored that, too.  
> I'm a poet at heart, lads. Terribly sorry.
> 
> As always, this is minus a beta - so if you see any typos/grammatical errors, leave me a comment and I'll fix it ASAP. Leave me a comment if you liked the story, too! I have a fragile ego that needs feeding like that. Erhhhm. Yeah. That's about it. Maybe someday I'll write an Inception fic that doesn't turn into a vague character study...


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